Cops, Queers, and Caravaggio

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

I have been asked to repeat this poem (it last appeared on the blog in 2010) for ‘Seb and Karl’ who ...’met in similar circumstances some years ago.’

They have also asked if I would repeat the link to my poetry reading on the 4^th plinth in Trafalgar Square in July 2009; my contribution to sculptor Antony Gormley’s One  & Other ‘living sculpture’ project during which I read some of my gay-interest poems among others:

http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T  [NB: Sept 19, 2019 - The British Library confirmed today that he video is no longer available as it was incompatible with a new IT system, However, it still exists and BL hope to reinstate it and make it available to the public again at some future date.] RNT ]

Karl and Seb add that (unlike me and the cop in the poem) they have been partners for twenty years to this very day. Congratulations to you both and a BIG HUG from yours truly.

The degree of homo-eroticism in much of Caravaggio's work and the fact that never married has led critics to speculate for years that he was probably gay, but ... who cares? At the end of the day, what has a person's sexuality to do with his or her character, skill or talent?

COPS, QUEERS, AND CARAVAGGIO 

We met in an art gallery,

enjoyed each other’s company

all day;

at his flat, we chatted over

coffee and, finally, he asked me

to stay;

although both nervous,

we made love, the two of us

in heaven...

nor just having fun;

good to be close to someone

again;

his mouth, warm and sensual;

an embrace far more than sexual

wanting me…

as more than a friend

but no mere means to an end

physically

He brought me breakfast

in bed and I turned a shade red

at his uniform;

I hadn’t asked about

his career, content just to be there

with him…

so it came as a shock

to see him dressed as a P.C.

for the beat;

tried to tell myself

it didn’t matter, heart all a-flutter

and cold feet;

at the door, a shy goodbye,

copper’s shirt and tie a brick

wall…

that crumbled with an embrace

as we saw, face to face, nothing

mattered at all

Lovers till he moved away;

friends to this day

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2010

[Note: This poem has been (very) slightly revised since it appeared in First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002.]